


your restless dreams will fade away

by cardinal__sin



Category: Gloryhammer (Band)
Genre: Fluff, a tiny bit of angst, ask to tag, give ralathor a hug pls, listen i dont know what to tag this its just....a thing that exists, with that being said
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28651269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinal__sin/pseuds/cardinal__sin
Summary: Ralathor needs a break. Thankfully he has friends who will force him to have one even if he refuses to admit that he's exhausted.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9





	your restless dreams will fade away

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly have no idea if this is any good but i hope you guys will enjoy it!  
> title from rumors by poets of the fall

The knock on the door startles Ralathor out of his concentration. He sighs and puts his book down, knowing that his precious few moments of quiet and solitude are over. He has a strong suspicion about the person bothering him, and when he opens the door, he finds himself to be correct.

“Hi,” Angus starts, shooting Ralathor a quick smile, “I wanted to ask something. How does food happen here?”

Ralathor stares at him for a moment, trying to make sense of the question.

“How does food…happen?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Angus nods. He looks impatient. “Do we, like, have a cook on board or does it all come from a box, or _do you use magic?_ ”

“Yes, Angus,” Ralathor sighs, “I spend my time and energy on conjuring up your morning cereal.”

When Angus doesn’t laugh, he shakes his head a little.

“Most of what we have is rations. Pre-packaged, ready to eat. You just heat it up or add water and it’s done. Why? Is it not enough?”

“No,” the young prince balks, “it’s – it’s great, I was just asking because I wanted to know if we have a kitchen.”

“As a matter of fact, we do.” Ralathor exits the room completely and the door slides shut behind him.

“Come, I’ll show you.”

The kitchen is not much. Even calling it a kitchen is a bit of a stretch, but it does have the basic appliances one would need to prepare one’s own food. It hasn’t been used for quite some time, and Ralathor frowns in disapproval at the thin layer of dust covering the countertops.

Angus stands next to him, contemplating the state of the room. He’s frowning just a little, his arms crossed in front of his chest. It occurs to Ralathor that the prince might be cold – the kitchen is at the lower levels, in one of the least frequented parts of the ship, so they don’t bother wasting energy on heating there. The young prince is only wearing a thin, army-issue undershirt though, and Ralathor can already see the goosebumps on his arms.

“As you can see, we don’t use it all that much,” he says, “but it should be functional.”

“Yeah,” Angus murmurs, still lost in thought, then snaps out of it and looks up to meet Ralathor’s eyes.

“Thanks,” he says with a crooked little smile, “this is perfect.”

“Do I even want to know what you’re up to?” Ralathor asks, his mind drawing a blank, considering they don’t exactly have a stock full of fresh ingredients. What Angus wants to do with a kitchen he cannot possibly use for cooking, he has no idea.

“And ruin the surprise? No, just wait and see.”

“You know I hate waiting and seeing,” Ralathor grumbles, but there’s no anger in his voice. Angus gives him a grin that says _I know you do but I don’t care_ , and waits patiently until Ralathor gets his cue and leaves.

He does so without much hesitation. If this was all Angus wanted then all the better for him, because now he can go back to his research and enjoy his solitude.

He takes off his uniform and changes into something more comfortable – a luxury he doesn’t allow himself all too often. The incorrectly healed vertebrae and the once-torn muscles of his back – painful reminders of lost fights – are flaring up, the pain radiating from the hairline fractures and across his whole body. He cannot sit at his desk when his injuries are acting up, and he refuses to get into bed in his uniform, thus the baggy pants and the undershirt.

His bed is nothing special, but it’s good enough for curling up into an almost foetal position so he can stretch his back muscles, head resting on one arm, the other holding his book. He allows himself a small mercy in the shape of a spell that lessens the painful flares, the numbing warmth spreading over his damaged body. He’s nearly comfortable, and it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate on his book. What was he even reading it for?

He wakes with a start. He looks around, disoriented and confused. He’s cold. His book, fallen shut, lies next to him on the bed. The knock that woke him sounds out in the small room once more, the three raps like gunshots against Ralathor’s growing headache.

He fights his way out of bed and all but stumbles to the door, his body stiff and sore from falling asleep in a weird position. He doesn’t even think to put on his uniform, and only realizes he’s not wearing it when he opens the door and comes face to face with a very confused Angus.

And a tray of amazing-smelling food.

“Come in,” Ralathor croaks, stepping away from the door so Angus can enter.

“Thanks,” Angus says, and comes in to set the tray down on Ralathor’s desk. Ralathor goes to pick up his uniform jacket so he’s wearing at least that.

“You really don’t have to,” the young prince hurries to reassure him, “I mean I’m the one bothering you during your nap.”

“I wasn’t napping,” Ralathor grumbles, but they both know that’s a lie. Angus isn’t blind. And Ralathor definitely looks like he’s just woken up, considering that he’s…just woken up. Still, he leaves the uniform and sits down on the edge of his bed as he is.

“What’s all this?”

Angus looks confused for a moment, then realizes that Ralathor means the food.

“Dinner,” he says simply, and pulls up the only chair in the room next to the bed.

“It’s uh, it’s chicken parmesan – as close to it as I could get with medieval Scottish ingredients. It’s still pretty good, though!”

“No, that’s not what I – why?”

Angus looks confused.

“Why?” he asks back, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

Ralathor just nods.

“We have our rations, which provide a perfect amount of nutrients. Where did you even get ingredients for this?”

“With the last supply run,” Angus shrugs.

“That still doesn’t explain why.”

The prince heaves a sigh and suddenly all humour is gone from his face. Ralathor regards him, and notices the lines of worry in his expression.

“You need a break,” he says finally, “if I can get you to stop working at least while you have dinner, then it’s already a success.”

“I don’t need breaks,” Ralathor huffs, “I’m fine. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Exactly. And if you weren’t exhausted, you would be doing that work instead of crashing off schedule.”

Ralathor shoots him a glare.

“Don’t look at me like that, I know you schedule your sleep into your daily agenda. If you don’t stick to it, you’re drained and you need to stop before you die.”

“I’m immortal,” Ralathor reminds him glibly. As much as he hates to admit it, Angus is right. He’s been fighting his own body’s cries for rest for days, and the pain from his old injuries is no doubt a sign of his body finally giving up on him.

“Fine,” he says finally, “point taken.”

“Great,” Angus grins, “time for dinner!”

Dinner is amazing. Ralathor is perfectly satisfied with the rations they have, but he has to admit that he has been sorely missing a freshly cooked meal. He wonders where Angus managed to find tomatoes, what with the Americas not having been discovered in this reality just yet, but decides not to ask any questions and just enjoy the prince’s surprisingly good cooking skills.

They don’t talk much, although Angus does ask Ralathor about his research and he answers each of his questions. There would be so much to talk about, but Angus seems to instinctually know that talking about most of their pressing issues would be the opposite of a break. Once Ralathor’s mind focuses on a problem, he won’t be able to let it go until he finds an answer or burns out trying. It’s nice to just enjoy some company and some good food for once.

“So,” Ralathor starts, once everything has been eaten and sufficiently praised, “did Hoots put you up to this?”

“To what?” Angus asks, frowning.

“Dinner. Checking up on me. He keeps worrying, it gets quite tiresome.”

“Oh.” Angus shifts in his seat, runs a nervous hand through his hair. “No, he had nothing to do with this. I just thought you could use some time to relax and maybe company that wasn’t submarine crew. Sorry, if you’d rather I leave I can –”

“Thank you,” Ralathor cuts him off, surprising even himself. But he means it. It’s been a while since someone cared enough about him to go out of their way to do something nice for him, or to get him to rest a little. The Hootsman’s words are always appreciated but don’t do much, an amiable reprimand easier to dismiss than someone barging into his room with a battle plan and a meal.

“Of course,” Angus smiles, “I’ll leave you alone now.”

He looks…weird. Ralathor can’t exactly identify the look on his face, but he doesn’t look happy about leaving. And if he thinks about it, Ralathor doesn’t necessarily want him to leave either. It’s nice to finally have someone around, someone to talk to. Someone who isn’t submarine crew, as Angus so eloquently put it.

“You don’t have to,” he says, and decidedly doesn’t feel himself relaxed at the relief spreading across Angus’ features.

“I thought you’d want to go back to work,” Angus mutters, and Ralathor laughs despite himself.

“I’m under strict orders to take a break,” he says in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Good,” Angus laughs, “you really shouldn’t. Try to get some sleep. More than you usually do.”

“You’re about two thousand years late to be parenting me,” Ralathor says, a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth.

“I’m being a good friend. This is what a good friend looks like. You’re unbelievable!”

For a moment, his temper reminds Ralathor of Zargothrax’. Before everything, when things were still fine, Zargothrax would complain about Ralathor in almost the exact same manner. The sweetness of the moment turns bitter as Ralathor gets lost in feeling sorry for himself, his guilt and grief flooding in just when he was almost completely relaxed. He’s never going to be free of his memories, and of the pain he had to endure all those years ago. But for now, Angus is there, looking at him with his worried eyes, and Ralathor swallows against the dark feelings twisting up his throat.

They’ll come back once Angus is gone and the submarine enters the night cycle. He’s completely aware that this is the most relaxed he’ll get in the next twelve hours, despite the young prince’s efforts. But he doesn’t need to know that.

Ralathor tries his best to give Angus a reassuring smile. Angus accepts it and stands up, giving Ralathor a quick pat on his shoulder. As much as Ralathor isn’t a fan of physical proximity, for a moment he wishes for more. It’s probably only because of the sudden influx of memories. He pushes the urge down, and stands up himself to escort Angus to the door.

“Thank you again for dinner and the company,” he says, and gets to enjoy another one of those warm smiles Angus distributes so freely.

“It was my pleasure,” the prince says.

Ralathor stands in his doorway and watches him go, only closing the door again when the prince turns on the corner and disappears from sight. He shakes his head, trying his best to clear his mind of everything. He must not confuse the past with the present, but he can clearly see the similarities between the two. He let down his guard for one moment and everything he’s been trying to protect himself from came flooding back. He can’t make that mistake again. It was nice of the young prince to do this, but that’s all it should be. A one-time gesture of friendship.

He couldn’t survive being hurt like that one more time.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! comments and kudos are always welcome, and if you feel like it, hit me up on social media or check out my other works: [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinal__sin) | [tumblr](https://cardinalxsin.tumblr.com/) | [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/cardinalxsin/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/cardinalxsin)


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